While Mortals Sleep
by Carrieosity
Summary: Sam and Dean haven't had many real Christmases. A holiday party in the bunker sounds like a great way to try something new. It's not entirely new for Castiel, though.


AN: For the SPN Holiday Mixtape challenge. My carol: "O Little Town of Bethlehem."

* * *

 ** _O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie_**

 ** _Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by…_**

The bunker was certainly still, Castiel mused, gently smiling at the contrast between the quietness of the moment and the joyful chaos that had made up the hours before. The detritus of the day still lay scattered over the tables and floor; a large garbage bag, the mark of a half-hearted attempt to corral the mess, spilled torn wrapping paper and ribbons onto the floor from where it had been tossed into a corner. Castiel trailed a hand over the garland of greenery dangling over the library archway, inhaling the scent of evergreen. Between the decorating, the shopping, the baking, and the celebrating, the Winchesters and their chosen family had more than earned a "deep and dreamless sleep," at the least.

Dean's sudden urge to have a full Christmas experience had taken all of them by surprise, though it probably should not have.

 _"This again?" Sam said, lifting his eyebrows. "Last time you got the itch for holiday cheer, you were counting down the days to Hell. Nobody's dying now, so what gives?"_

 _"What, does somebody have to be dying for us to have a little eggnog and a tree?" Dean argued._

 _"For us? Usually," Sam snorted. "I mean, I guess if you really want to, we can do something. It's pretty quiet right now – no big evil that won't wait a few days. We probably don't need much, either. Just you, me, and Cas?"_

 _"Maybe Charlie, too," Dean suggested. "I mean, she's probably in the same boat. How many Christmases you think she's had, being pretty much on her own since she was a kid?"_

 _"Yeah, you're right. We should probably call Jody, too, and see if she wants to swing by."_

 _Dean smirked. "Should I grab some mistletoe, then?"_

 _"Shut up, jerk," Sam said with a blush, unable to hide his own grin._

 _"Bitch."_

Castiel had been amazed at the whirlwind of activity that had swept over the group. Charlie and Jody had both been thrilled at the prospect of a bunker Christmas. Alex and Claire were also excited, though Claire was much more tentative. After her mother had left, holiday parties had been as scarce for her as they had been for Charlie and the brothers, but she was a bit anxious over the idea of spending the holiday with Castiel.

 _"I mean, no offense," Claire said, face framed in the laptop Skype window. "It's just that the last time I had a big family Christmas, it was with somebody who looked just like you, only…"_

 _Castiel felt the surge of guilt that often accompanied reminders of his introduction to Jimmy Novak. "I'm sorry, Claire," he said. "If you would feel more comfortable, I can find somewhere else to be for the day."_

 _"No!" Claire's protest came with a chorus, echoed by the friends on both sides of the connection. "No, it'll be okay, Cas," Claire repeated. "It's your family, too. I can…I can handle it. I know you're not him. You're not even really the guy you were back then. Maybe this will be good for us, huh?"_

Castiel smiled now, recalling the events of the day. It had been good for them, after all – good for everyone. Sam's "not much" proposal had been quickly left behind as more voices joined the push for more and more trappings of the season. Dean had argued that the bunker's high ceiling totally justified, if not mandated, a massive tree, and Charlie had firmly seconded the motion; the two of them had made the trip to the tree farm several days before Christmas and had returned hours later with a tree whose transport on the roof of the Impala still baffled the rest of the group. (Dean swore no spellwork had been involved.) Charlie had lobbied for a group outing to the nearest shopping mall, which the brothers had adamantly refused as "untraditional," so she and Castiel wound up going without them.

 _"The belly of the beast!" she'd chirped, grabbing his hand and hauling him through the parking lot._

 _"I don't understand," he'd said in confusion, staring at the mall entrance in alarm. "I thought we were buying gifts, not hunting."_

 _"Eh, it'll feel like both. But there's a Cinnabon!"_

Now the packages they'd carefully wrapped, along with those purchased by Sam and Dean and the ones brought by Jody and the girls that morning, lay in piles around the tree. Castiel was amused to see that Dean's presents were neatly arranged in a tidy stack, while Sam's were tumbled across a wide swathe of the tree skirt. The sight of his own gifts still made his breath catch a little; no matter how often Sam or Dean casually included him in their references to "family," he still sometimes struggled to believe that they really saw him that way. He hadn't expected to be given any presents, so seeing his own name on the tags of boxes had caught him off-guard.

 _"I've never…" He ran his fingers over the shiny ribbon on the package in his lap. "This is my first Christmas present."_

 _"What?" Dean looked shocked. "Thought you guys were really big on Christmas up there."_

 _"Yes, I suppose we are 'really big' on the observation, but angels don't celebrate like this. Even at the original celebration – which, by the way, was not in December at all – there were no gifts. The magi didn't even arrive in Bethlehem until the Christ child was several years old, certainly not on his birthday. The giving of gifts to each other as part of Christmas is a modern human ritual."_

 _"Have a holly, not-so-jolly, historically-inaccurate Christmas," Alex sang under her breath, and Claire elbowed her in the ribs._

 _"Okay, well, we like our modern human rituals," Dean said, "and since you're hanging with us, you get to like them, too. I don't remember what's in that one, so let's just hope it's good enough to be your very first Christmas present."_

 _It was a sweater. Charlie had cackled loudly at it, reaching over to poke at the bells stitched onto the embroidered reindeer antlers._

 ** _How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given!_**

 ** _So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven._**

Hours had passed since the last cookie was eaten, the last gulp of eggnog swallowed, the last stocking upended. Jody had yawned and been the first to make her way to a bunker bedroom, calling good nights on her way; Sam had followed not long after, pleading exhaustion from a day that had begun with an early morning run. Dean had almost commented about there being no need for fake excuses or stories, but he'd restrained himself when he remembered Claire and Alex (who had already cast knowing glances at each other). They all pretended not to notice the sound of quiet knocking and hushed conversation coming from the shadowed hallway after that.

Charlie and the girls had resisted sleepiness, not wanting the evening to end. The easy camaraderie had been a relief, after Claire's and Castiel's earlier concerns; as soon as he had stopped trying to fill the role as her guardian, and she had stopped viewing him as a surrogate father, they had instead fallen into a tentative friendship. It was still delicate, with potential for wounded feelings, but today they were able to bond over shared opinions on certain holiday observances.

 _"I don't care what kind of a man-crush you have on Bruce Willis," Claire argued flatly. "'Die Hard' is a weird favorite Christmas movie."_

 _"I let you come in here and drink my eggnog," Dean groaned, shaking his head. "What, you like 'Elf' or something? Too new to be a classic."_

 _"'Elf' came out more than a decade ago, Dean," Charlie said._

 _"Like I said, too new."_

 _Claire rolled her eyes. "Anyway, no. I like the old cartoons. Charlie Brown, Frosty, Rudolph, The Grinch."_

 _Castiel had smiled widely. "I like Hermey the Elf." Claire had turned to him, grinning in wide-eyed delight._

 _Dean groaned again, louder. "Figures," he said, but his eyes had been fond, and he'd clapped a warm hand against Castiel's shoulder as they sat beside each other on the sofa._

 _"What about Christmas songs?" Charlie asked, changing the subject. "Ooh, we should sing Christmas carols!"_

 _"Nobody wants to hear me sing," Dean had protested. "I'm not that cruel."_

 _"Dean, I've heard you sing before. You have a pleasant singing voice," Castiel had protested._

 _"When have you heard me sing?"_

 _"In the Impala," Castiel had started to explain, before he suddenly remembered that Dean had never sung along with the radio when he could be heard, or at least not without clowning. When he thought his passengers were asleep, however, or when he had been unaware of Castiel's presence in the car with him, Dean would frequently sing softly to himself, and he was more than capable of doing so well. Castiel had actually been understating his opinion of Dean's talent; he had greatly enjoyed the occasions he'd been able to quietly listen to Dean's rich tenor singing._

 _Judging by Dean's expression, he was now clearly aware of the circumstances by which Castiel had come to be aware of his ability. Dean had blushed and frowned, apparently both flattered and disgruntled. "Yeah, well, I'm not doing it now." He had gotten up for more eggnog, eager for the escape._

 _"Well, I like to sing," Alex had offered, and Claire nodded generously. "How about you, Cas?"_

 _Dean had barked a laugh. "I'd like to hear that. Cas, buddy, you're a dude of many skills, but you'd probably sound like a three-pack-a-day retired lounge singer." He'd chuckled again, imagining it, as he'd reseated himself._

 _Castiel had tilted his head, considering. Then he abruptly stood and faced Dean. "_ Alleluja, laudate Dominum de caelis; laudate eum in excelsis. Laudate eum, omnes angeli ejus; laudate eum, omnes virtutes ejus." _The sound of his voice echoed around the room, rolling from the high ceiling, almost sounding as though it could eventually harmonize with itself if he continued. His tone was almost surreally clear, a sonorous baritone that had seemed to roll out of his lungs as naturally as breathing. When he finished, everyone in the room stared in awe._

 _"That…that was…" Alex was at a loss for words._

 _"Of course, we sang it in Aramaic that day," Castiel had said, shrugging. "I doubt there were any shepherds conversant in Latin. But I enjoy singing in Latin, personally."_

 _"Wait, wait," Charlie had spluttered. "That was the actual song from the Bible story? And you were actually_ there? _Singing it?"_

 _Castiel had smiled, remembering. "We all were. It was, as you say, an 'all hands on deck' circumstance." He'd sat back down, relaxing into the sofa cushions as he'd reminisced._

 _Dean, silent until then, shook his head as if clearing it. "Cas," he'd said, then seemed to lose the train of what he wanted to say. Finally, he'd wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders and squeezed. "You never stop surprising me, do you?"_

Charlie and the girls had gone to bed not long after that, nobody wanting to try to follow Castiel's singing performance. It had been late, and Cas had thought Dean would follow them to bed, but Dean had wanted to stay up a bit longer, enjoying the lights and the memories of the day. Now, finishing his circuit of the library, Castiel found himself at the arm of the sofa, gazing down warmly on Dean's sleeping was draped in an afghan Jody had given him, laughing about "old hunter's bones," and he looked more at peace than Castiel thought he'd seen him in a long while.

Though he knew Dean would feel affronted at the idea of being "babied," he also knew that sleeping on the sofa would aggravate Dean's back. Using the tiniest amount of grace to make sure Dean didn't wake, he lifted the hunter into his arms and carefully carried him down the hall and into his own bedroom. Laying him on his bed, he gently eased the boots from Dean's feet and rearranged the blankets so they covered him to his shoulders.

"Good night, Dean," he whispered, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. Smiling to himself, he returned to the library, sitting in the spot that still retained the warmth of Dean's body. He was alone now, but he had never felt further from it. He hummed, then softly sang the words from "O Little Town of Bethlehem," which seemed quite appropriate for the moment.

 _"For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above / While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love."_

He'd kept watch then, and he kept watch now.


End file.
